Make It Canon
by KissMeDeadlyT-T
Summary: Dean, who by the way, totally doesn't have a crush on Cas, even a little bit (hell no, he's not gay for his best friend, what is Sammy /thinking/), discovers Destiel. Sam suggests he make it canon. Dean is horrified, because there is /no/ way he has thought about that. Not even once. -Non-established, implied Destiel, mentions of Sabriel and Wincest. Crack. Cas is mentioned only.


**KissMeDeadlyT-T: I'M BORED NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO JUDGE ME FOR THIS**

**Also let it be said that I have NOTHING against Wincest or Sabriel whatsoever not even a bit so I'm totally not bashing in this fic not even a tiny bit okay I promise **

**I don't own Supernatural I'm just really bored and overtired and wanted to fuck around with Dean and Sam. Sorry for any mistakes, point 'em out and I'll fix them tomorrow or something. c:**

**xxXXxxXXxx**

Dean was bored. And it wasn't some _ho-hum, gee, I dunno what to do_ bored. It was more of a _holy shit I'm gonna smash my face off the goddamn dash if something entertaining doesn't happen like now_ bored.

He sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, gingerly rolling his right shoulder around, wincing when _yup_, he'd definitely dislocated that. He couldn't even lift it far enough to drive. He was totally not brooding or pouting about it, though, not one bit – it was his own fault, anyway. Sam sat next to him, looking ahead, foot on the gas pedal driving the car a bit slower than Dean would like. He was humming _Laugh, I Nearly Died_ in his tone-deaf voice and blatantly ignoring Dean, because he was pissed. Dean wanted to try to initiate conversation, but the last time he'd tried that, he'd been subjected to a death glare so intense that he'd felt the cold chill of Hell tickling at his spine.

He wasn't doing that again.

Really, it was stupid, Dean thought. Just because yeah, it was his fault they'd nearly both gotten killed after he'd rushed head-first in to that vamp lair, and maybe it was one of his stupider decisions, _did not_ mean that Sam had any right to be mad at him. How many times had Sam done something similar? Hell, how many times had they almost died in general? Thinking back, he realized how stupid his actions had been, but they'd survived, hadn't they? Even if Sam wanted to be a bitch about it, he didn't have to go and ignore Dean, damn it. Boredom did not sit well with Dean. Especially not while he was still pumping adrenaline from their hunt. He really friggin' wanted a few shots of whiskey, maybe a beer. Actually, he wanted to punch something. He fidgeted in his seat, unable to take it anymore. He might start clawing his eyes out.

"Are we almost there?" he grumbled, 'there' being their seedy, pay-by-the-hour, sickeningly yellow motel room off the side of some tiny town in Massachusetts. His cell phone screen let him know it was four in the morning, and that he had two texts. Since Sam was still ignoring him, and very noticeably not answering his question, he let out a sigh and slid his finger across the screen to check them. They were from that girl he'd met a couple days ago in the bar. He felt a slight prickle of guilt as he deleted the messages without bothering to check them. Lately he really wasn't interested in starting anything with any chick, no matter how curvy or busty or hot. He sighed again, blowing the air out between his lips, making an annoying farting sound. He did it again. And again.

"_Dean_." Sam's voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Now you talk to me."

"Shut the fuck up."

Dean raised his eyebrows but made no reply. He fiddled around with his phone. Maybe he'd text Cas. It was always funny to see the angel attempt to use technology. But Cas was probably busy right now, doing angel stuff or whatever. Grumbling to himself, he tossed his phone aside and looked out the window. Jesus, he was tired. He just wanted his four hours. But he still wanted to drown half a bottle of some form of hard alcohol. And punch something.

"Are we almost there?" he asked again, letting it come out a bit whinier than it normally would.

"An hour and a half." Clipped, icy. _Brutal._

Dean's temper decided it was time to make an appearance. "What the hell crawled up your ass and died?" he snapped. Yeah, okay, he'd fucked up. He'd admit it. But did Sam have to be such a friggin' bitch?

"Nothing crawled up my ass." Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm, a drawling sneer that made Dean feel kinda pissed but mostly guilty. "But I'm damned sure _we_ would have died if Cas hadn't shown up when he did."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I get it, okay? I messed up. We could have died. But we _didn't._" His eyebrows raised, he sent Sam a look that was somewhere between _Calm your tits Sammy_ and _ See? I told you we'd be fine, because I'm awesome, and I know what I'm doing_. "And shouldn't that be all that counts?" He put his hand to his heart in mock hurt. "What have we _come to_ if mistakes are more important than—"

"God, Dean, shut up." But Sam sounded more annoyed and less angry now. "Listen. We owe Cas a big thank-you, okay? A huge one." After a moment, he added, "Again." Then, apparently still pissy, he glanced over at Dean with a smug smirk, wiggled his eyebrows, lowered his voice. "I can think of a way or two _you_ could thank him."

Dean turned bright red and sputtered angrily. "Sam – no – ugh, why the hell do you keep bringing that up?" When Sam started laughing at this flustered protests, he grit his teeth angrily. Sam was in such an asshole mood tonight. "I'm not gay for Cas, for fuck's sake— it was an accident!"

"Right. You know, I might believe that if it had only happened once. But Dean," Sam shot him a huge grin, "I've heard you _moaning_ his name in your sleep. Like, five times."

"That's – that's not, that doesn't mean anything— I can't control my dreams, damn it!"

"Dreams are supposed to be your heart's deepest desire," Sam pointed out, like he was reading from a textbook. Dean nearly punched him. The only reason he didn't was because Sam was driving Baby and he didn't want to end up wrapped around a tree tonight.

Dean just glowered at him, but didn't argue any more – Sam would just keep making fun of him. At least Sam wasn't _ignoring _him now, but Dean thought he'd probably prefer that. Just because he _might have_ accidentally had one or two or twenty wet dreams about his best friend didn't mean he was gay for him. Seriously? He couldn't control his damned brain. Just 'cause he thought Cas was kinda, sorta cute when he titled his head and squinted in confusion, or that he was a bit, but not _really_, hot when he got all angry and smote things and became a merciless soldier, or that his eyes were a really pleasant shade of blue that he could _totally_ see coming undone and dilating and glazing over with something that totally wasn't lust… just 'cause he thought that, didn't mean he was gay for Cas. No. He still liked women. Boobs. Curves. Hell yeah.

But Cas was pretty hot, too…

But women were hot…

But so was Cas…

Ugh.

"Fucking hell," he growled, smacking the dash just because he could. Sam glanced at him, lips curled in a knowing smirk. Dean shot a glare. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam said innocently, looking back to the road. "Are you having a sexuality crisis?"

Dean actually did punch him this time. "No, but you'll have a_ life_ crisis if you don't shut up _now_."

"You know it's cool right? Like, if you're worried about me caring or something, I seriously couldn't care less—"

"For the – Sam, shut _up_." Dean set his jaw and looked out the window. Sam sighed, but relented, and it became quiet. Dean reached to turn up the radio, effectively drowning out anything else Sam might say with Metallica. He glared at the trees passing by. Yeah, it had been a lot better when Sam was pissed and ignoring him.

"Why don't you read a book or something?" Sam suggested awkwardly after a little while.

"We're a little short on those, in case you didn't notice," Dean snorted sarcastically. He jerked his thumb towards the back seat. "We've got a wide selection of a map of Illinois and dad's journal." Frowning, sinking low into his seat, still kinda touchy about Sam's implication, he muttered, "Sounds thrilling."

Sam sighed. Dean could basically feel the condescending irritation rolling off of him. "Grab my laptop and the internet stick and watch your cartoon porn, I don't know."

"Hentai," Dean corrected reproachfully. "Seriously, Sammy, get educated."

Sam's eyebrows raised, and he seemed to be repressing a giant eyeroll, but he didn't answer. Instead, he just waved his hand in the general direction of the backseat, piled with clothes and weapons and their duffels, cleared out on the middle seat where Cas usually sat when he was with them. Dean always wondered why Cas chose the middle – he didn't really mind though. He kinda… liked seeing Cas in the rearview mirror. He grimaced at himself, burying that thought before it could bloom into an annoying something bigger, and realized Sam was saying something.

"…a movie. We have some DVDs back there somewhere. Just… don't mess it up, I swear. And on second thought, don't watch porn while you're sitting next to me."

"Your faith in me is amazing," Dean muttered sarcastically. He gingerly felt around the backseat, searching for Sam's duffel, doing his best not to jar his injured shoulder too much. His knuckle smacked the corner of Sam's laptop. Cursing, he yanked it out of the bag and brought his knuckle up to his mouth, sucking hard on the stinging area in an attempt to alleviate the minute, throbbing pain, which seemed worse than it really was because of the pain everywhere else. After a moment, he shuffled through the duffel again until he found the tiny internet stick that they used whenever Sam couldn't find Wi-Fi.

He booted up Sam's laptop, mentally scoffing when he saw Sam nervously glance his way, not-so-sneakily trying to make sure he was doing it right (Dean knew how to turn on a laptop, thank you very much), and stuck the stick into the port. It took a few seconds for it to register. "Nice background," he commented while he was waiting.

Sam flushed. "Are you making fun of me?"

Dean stared at the Star Trek wallpaper and then to Sam with a completely straight face. "I'm actually beginning to be less pissed off at you because of it."

"Nerd."

"I'm not the one with the geeked-out laptop, loser." Dean opened a Chrome window.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, tapping his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. "Don't get a virus on there."

"I'm not going to corrupt your laptop, Sam, Jesus."

"You'd better not. You corrupted a lot of things. You corrupted Cas. I actually heard him humming the Star Wars theme song the other day."

Dean snorted. "Wish I'd been there to hear it," he said, grinning. Some part of him was proud. He tapped the keyboard absently. "Say, where did Cas go? Like, he was there one second, then he just left."

"You sound like a concerned husband."

Dean shot him a sharp look. "Sam—"

Sam just laughed, throwing one hand up defensively. He kept his eyes on the road, but Dean could see the shit-eating grin in them anyway. "It's Cas. I don't know what he's doing. Why don't you text him?"

"Last time I texted him it took him a half-hour to figure out how to respond with two words," Dean reminded him distractedly. He chewed on his lip, debating on what to do. Something trickled out from the back of his mind. His brow furrowed. "Sam, what's Tumblr?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. I remember Becky talking about it a lot."

Dean pursed his lips. "What the hell," he muttered, typing in the address. What else was he gonna do with over an hour of driving? "Oh, jeez. I have to make an account, uh… I need a name."

"Just use your name." Sam seemed interested and kept glancing up from the road.

"Okay – ugh, what? That's taken… how 'bout Sam…" That was taken too. "What the fuck is this."

"I don't know. I don't use this kinda stuff."

"I'm just gonna… okay…" Dean just smashed a random bunch of letters. "Perfect."

He played around with it for a bit more, looking at random stuff – mostly porn (this website was a friggin' motherload) until Sam snapped at him to wait until he had his own laptop. Then he looked at the pies tag. That just made him hungry, so he cleared that. He pursed his lips. "Do you think Chuck's books are still a big thing?"

"He published those few with the angels in them before he disappeared, didn't he?"

"I think so." Sam smirked, then, like he knew something Dean didn't. Dean stared at him suspiciously. "What?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Look us up."

Dean did Sam first. He let out a low whistle. "There's some seriously impressive fanart on here." He pulled one up and snorted. "They're calling you Moose. Crowley literally started a trend."

"Oh my god," Sam groaned.

"Oh, and – what the hell, is that Gabriel?" Dean opened another picture and nearly died cackling. "Dude! They're pairing you with _Gabriel_!"

"What?" Sam demanded, scandalized. "Why?"

"Hell if I know! But apparently you're a really – uhh… woah," Dean muttered to himself, quickly exiting out of that fanart once he realized what was going on. "The worst part was that it _looked_ like you, Sammy. You were taking it up the ass from Gabriel."

Sam nearly drove them off the road. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! Apparently – Sabriel. That's the name for it."

"Kill me," Sam muttered. "Just don't look up Wincest."

"Have you looked—"

"God, no, Dean," Sam said, disgusted. "Becky used to talk about it all the time, remember? Apparently, we want to bang – we're erotically co-dependant, I guess. According to Becky."

"I'm gonna puke. No offence."

"None taken. Look yourself up." That grin was back. Dean eyed him.

"I don't like that look."

"Just do it, Dean. Better yet, look up Destiel."

Dean squinted at him. "Should I know what that means?"

"No. Look it up." Sam grinned wider at the road.

Shaking his head, Dean typed it in. "D-E-S-T-I-E-L?"

"I guess."

"Hm." He pressed enter. Almost immediately, he let out the most unmanly screech in the whole world. Sam howled with laughter. "What the fuck!" Dean shrilled. He felt his face heat up almost unbearably as one of the first results seemed to be… Cas… tied up… and… "_Oh my fucking god_," Dean squeaked, slamming the laptop shut. The image was burnt into his retinas – he tried very hard not to think about the clenching, fluttery feeling down below, to ignore the fact that he'd imagined that very scene countless times. Which was something he normally never would have admitted, even to himself – but he was freaking out so badly he couldn't _not_ imagine it. It just kept coming back. The fucking artist of that goddamned drawing – holy – "It looked… so _real_…"

Sam just continued laughing his ass off.

"_Sam_." Dean was disturbed beyond belief. How these people knew his darkest secrets, he had no idea – he was positive Chuck hadn't known. "Did the… did the fans… just… come up with it…"

"I was curious," Sam admitted, snickering still, "what the fans thought of your guys' relationship. It turns out they feel the same way I do." Dean was gaped, bright red. Sam began speaking as if he was reading from a text. "A lot of people are convinced you're bisexual. They had some really good points. Oh, and a lot of people see your relationship with Cas as more than platonic. The staring mostly. And they get into details of romantic tropes, and stuff, it's really crazy what they come up with. And they seem to think that I'd agree with it." Sam shrugged. "Not gonna lie, I've been trying to get you two to kiss for, like… months."

"It's _platonic_!" Dean screeched.

"Not according to Destiel shippers. Or that blush." Sam snorted. He went on. "There are some people who see it platonically, though. You're in luck."

"Oh my god…"

"A lot of blogs and stuff are solely dedicated to your guys' romance though."

"_Romance_—"

"They want it to be canon."

"What the fuckin hell—"

"Real. They want it to happen." Sam wriggled his eyebrows, grinning again. "Why don't you pray to Cas to get his feathery ass to our motel and you can make it canon?"

That was it – Dean officially marked tonight as one of the worst nights in his life. He groaned and hid his face in his hands, trying to ignore the butterflies and stupid girly pounding heart. "This is ridiculous."

"God, Dean, you're blushing so hard."

"Shut _up_, Sam, oh my _god_. Go back to being pissed at me while I try to figure out a way to convince Cas to erase my memory."

"Can't erase your _feelings_," Sam teased.

"_I will send you back to Hell if you don't stop talking_."

**xxXXxxXXxx**

**KissMeDeadlyT-T: I'm so tired goodbye friends **

**Does this even make sense probably not **

**Oh well nothing I write makes sense lol**

**Review if you want that'd be swell**


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